The Donkey

He works all day,

He works all night,

We give him no rest,

As he pulls with all his might.

The load he drags is heavy,

His legs are weak,

He longs to lie down,

But his masters still make his life so bleak.

There is no hope for this poor old soul,

He wakes everyday with dread,

But he must pull through,

Even though he wishes to be dead.